


There is just one thing I need

by Roshwen



Series: All I want for Christmas [2]
Category: The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M, Just a lazy Christmas morning (after a very busy Christmas Eve), No Actual Plot Whatsoever, Pure unadulterated Christmas fluff, Rated M for the few bits of adult stuff between the fluff, Seriously I got cavities just from writing this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-04 22:29:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12177753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roshwen/pseuds/Roshwen
Summary: It's Christmas morning and Cassandra finds herself alone in a strange bed. But everything turns out alright in the end, because Ezekiel has made breakfast.





	There is just one thing I need

**Author's Note:**

> So apparently I'm writing a Christmas fic series in September. Okay. You can read this as a standalone, but the cinnamon buns will make more sense if you read the Christmas Eve part first (though that's slightly more explicit, so be warned. Or encouraged, I don't know).

When Cassandra wakes up on Christmas morning, there are a couple of unexpected things. At first, they don’t register because she’s still floating somewhere in that pleasant void between dreaming and waking, but even while she’s half asleep she knows something is different.

First of all, she’s not in her own bed. She can sense it even with her eyes still closed, because her own bed is the cheapest single IKEA had to offer and creaks if she so much as breathes a little too hard, and the mattress is just as flimsy. Not only does this bed not creak at all, but the mattress is so soft it feels like she’s lying on a cloud, or at least what she imagines lying on a cloud would feel like.

It’s also a lot bigger than her own bed and there’s no one else in it, she discovers as she carefully reaches out a hand. So, fact 1: she is alone in a strange bed that feels like heaven and for some reason smells vaguely of oranges.

She shifts her legs, waking up a little more. That’s when fact 2 presents itself: she is completely naked. Soft cotton slides against her bare skin and _that_ sensation brings back a whole host of very happy memories.

 _Smooth golden skin under her hands and mouth, low moans above her head as she finds a sensitive spot, finds it and remembers it and maps them all out in her mind because he is_ very _sensitive in some places and the sounds he makes as she explores him further, goes in deeper, light up the room like falling stars._

 _Then s_ _trong hands roving across her body, lithe fingers touching and exploring every inch of her while a soft voice with a heavy accent whispers endearments into her skin, the words punctuated with kisses that feel like drops of liquid amber and smell like oranges._

 _So that’s where that scent comes from._ A grin spreads across Cassandra’s face as she turns onto her stomach and buries her nose in the pillow. She inhales deeply and grins even wider, unable to contain the glee that’s bubbling up inside her like the best kind of champagne. By now she can feel the ache that has settled in her limbs and she has to resist the temptation to stretch out and sharpen the feeling. Instead she lies still, letting herself drift completely awake while last night’s events continue to play themselves out inside her mind.

‘ _Strawberries,’ Ezekiel murmurs. He is buried deep inside her and every movement he makes causes silver waves of pleasure to roll through her, each one faster and deeper than the one before._ _One hand, one very clever hand with even better fingers, is dancing over her clit while the other is splayed across her back, holding her steady against him. Cassandra wants to ask what he means, but then the waves get even stronger and they’re not just silver anymore but they’re gold, warm and rich_ _and deep,_ _and she has to let go and let the waves carry her away._

Even as the last remnants of sleep leave her, Cassandra still doesn’t want to get up. Ezekiel’s bed is the most comfortable thing she’s ever been in and she does not want to stop the play-by-play of last night that is still dancing before her eyes. However, there are two problems with staying in bed: Ezekiel is not there and it’s Christmas morning.

 _Make that three,_ her bladder whispers.

 _Four,_ adds her stomach.

 _Yes, alright,_ Cassandra replies. She turns around and slowly sits up, sore muscles protesting in the best possible way. The covers fall from her shoulders and the cold air immediately raises goosebumps on her skin so before she gets out of bed completely, Cassandra decides she needs to locate some clothes. The dress she wore last night lies in a crumpled heap on the floor and there is no way she is touching that thing ever again. It had made her look like her mother, as every elderly aunt had kindly informed her, and that is not something Cassandra considers a compliment.

Instead of the dress, she wraps the covers around her shoulders again and steps out of bed to inspect the chest of drawers in the corner. There she finds a pair of sweatpants, a white t-shirt and a hoodie, all to big for her but they will have to do for now. Besides, she has a strong suspicion that whatever she puts on will probably end up on the floor again before the end of the day, so she grabs the clothes and heads for the bathroom.

A quick shower later, she makes her way into the living room and stops dead in the doorway, because Ezekiel’s apartment is _not_ what she expected. She missed most of it last night in the darkness and the eagerness to get to the bedroom as soon as possible, but now she can’t stop staring.

For a start, it’s light and spacious, with huge windows letting in the winter sunlight, and it has an open floor plan so she can see straight into the kitchen where something is smelling absolutely amazing.

It’s also very clean and organized. Considering the living whirlwind that is Ezekiel Jones, that is a surprise in itself. Cassandra had expected at least some dirty dishes or takeout cartons, maybe some empty soda bottles lying around, but instead, the coffee table is empty except for a trio of remote controls. There’s a comfortable leather couch with pillows (actual _pillows)_ neatly tucked into the corners and a throw blanket squarely folded over the back. The couch is facing a wall that appears to consist solely of TV, which actually is not all that surprising. In one corner there’s a desk with a very impressive computer setup, while in the other there’s a bookshelf. It’s pretty full too, for all Jake’s bitching at Ezekiel to stop wasting time with his computers and crack open a book sometimes. Cassandra doesn’t recognize most of the titles, but she sees he has all seven Harry Potter books lined up with a little figurine of a snake next to it.

All in all, the only word that Cassandra can think of as she takes in the leather couch and the pillows (one of them has the Australian flag on it and Cassandra’s heart clenches a little), the wooden floorboards and the books and the fact that there’s actual drapes for the windows and not just blinds, is _co_ _z_ _y._

Ezekiel has made himself a home here.

Then there’s a familiar noise and the front door lights up with a blue glow before it spits out Ezekiel, wearing nothing but a pair of tattered old jeans and flip flops. His hair is mussed and sticking up in all directions and there’s smudges on his forehead and cheek. He looks absolutely adorable and Cassandra can’t help but grin as she says: ‘Hey.’

Ezekiel looks up and grins back at her. ‘Hey yourself,’ he says. Then he sees what she’s wearing and his grin gets wider. ‘Are you worried you’re gonna catch a cold in here?’

‘Your bedroom’s freezing,’ Cassandra says as she walks towards him, wrapping her arms around his waist and catching his mouth in a kiss. His hands settle heavy on her hips as he draws her in close and kisses her back, languid and slow.

‘I know,’ Ezekiel says as Cassandra breaks the kiss and nestles her cheek against his shoulder, her lips softly nipping at the edge of his jaw. ‘Never liked warm bedrooms. You slept OK, though?’

His hands move up from her hips and around her back until she’s wrapped up tight in his arms and Cassandra once again thanks the ghost of Issac Newton that she’d let Ezekiel go with her to Grandmother’s Christmas Eve from Hell. ‘Yeah,’ she says, ‘I slept okay. Where did you go?’

Something else suddenly catches her attention and she looks up, an amused frown on her face. ‘And why do you smell like cinnamon?’

He grins and presses a kiss to her forehead before releasing her. ‘If you’re thinking I nipped out to Oklahoma while you were sleeping Christmas away, you are sadly mistaken. I just went to the Annex this morning to borrow some stuff from Jenkins’ kitchen and he told me to bring it back as soon as I was done with it.’

At the mention of the word ‘kitchen’, Cassandra’s stomach decides it has been ignored long enough and grumbles loudly. Ezekiel laughs and grabs her hand, taking her with him to the kitchen. ‘Should be done any minute now,’ he says, checking the oven timer and sinking down on his haunches to peer through the door.

A couple of seconds later the timer dings and Ezekiel grabs a pair of ancient looking oven mitts before opening the door and letting out a gust of hot air. The smell makes Cassandra’s mouth water but when she sees what’s on the tray Ezekiel pulls out of the oven, she laughs in surprise.

‘You made cinnamon buns?’ she asks, not even sure what the most amazing thing is here: the fact that Ezekiel can bake, or that he actually went through the trouble of baking something for breakfast, even though he apparently had to go to the Annex and ask Jenkins for help to do it, or the fact that he made _cinnamon buns._

Ezekiel carefully puts the tray on the counter and takes off the oven mitts. Then he turns around to open the fridge and pull out a bottle of orange juice. He pours a glass and offers it to Cassandra with a smirk that tells her he knows exactly what he’s doing. ‘You seemed to like the combination last night,’ he says and for that, Cassandra just has to kiss him again.

He catches her as she flings her arms around his neck, making him bump back against the counter. ‘Careful,’ he mutters into her mouth, ‘there’s hot stuff in here.’

‘You’re hot stuff,’ Cassandra replies, which is probably exactly what Ezekiel wanted her to say but she doesn’t care. His hair is soft as feathers and she loves the sensation of carding her fingers through it, loves the movement of his lips on hers, loves the sharpness when he gently bites her bottom lip, loves the way his hands are stealing their way inside her hoodie, loves how their warmth is searing into her skin with every touch, loves the sound he makes as she leaves his mouth and finds one of the sweet spots on his neck (already helpfully marked by Jake yesterday in the form of a bright purple hickey), loves the way everything suddenly smells like oranges again, fresh and sharp and sweet, and she _loves._

She loves this ridiculous idiot who can make her laugh harder than she ever thought possible, who never stopped believing in her even after she betrayed them all (even when she stopped believing in herself for a while) and who gave her a Christmas present she thought she could never have.

‘Damn, Cass,’ Ezekiel says with a grin as they break apart, ‘I don’t know if they’re _that_ good, I mean, it’s just an internet recipe and I’ve never made them before so you know, maybe save the enthusiasm for when you’ve actually had a bite?’

‘It’s not just that’ Cassandra whispers, wrapping herself around him in a fierce hug. She doesn’t explain any further because she’s not sure she could find the words at the moment, but Ezekiel seems to understand. He wraps his arms around her back and squeezes her tight for a moment before he releases her. ‘Come on,’ he says. ‘Breakfast first, and then we’ll go to your place so you can put on some actual clothes.’

He turns to the counter, frees one of the cinnamon buns from the tray with a spatula, puts it on a plate and hands it to Cassandra. By now she is so hungry that she doesn’t care it’s straight from the oven and probably still hot, she just picks it up and takes a huge bite. The flavor immediately explodes on her tongue, warm sweetness combined with just the right amount of spice and Cassandra’s eyes fall closed as she almost lets out an honest to god moan.

‘I guess they turned out okay, then,’ Ezekiel says and she can _hear_ the smug smile in his voice. ‘Anyway, as I said, you gotta pick up some clothes. A lot of clothes, by the way, because you, me and the cowboy are spending the rest of Christmas at Nick’s palace.’

Cassandra stops mid-chew to stare at Ezekiel. ‘Really?’

Ezekiel nods, the smug grin replaced by a fond smile when he sees the pure joy dawning on Cassandra’s face. Then he very quickly has to put his glass of orange juice aside before Cassandra launches herself at him for the second time that morning. Ezekiel laughs but doesn’t try to stop her as she starts covering him in kisses, planting them on his chin, his cheeks, his eyes, everywhere she can reach.

‘Thankyou thankyou thankyou _thankyou!’_

When she’s done, he just presses a soft kiss to her lips as he hands her another cinnamon bun. ‘Merry Christmas, cupcake.’


End file.
